Thanksgiving dinner with relatives,
autumn leaves escaping a neatly
raked pile of expectations.
Are they your thoughts and feelings,
or energetic expressions in the body?
Listen to the wind sing of truth
you already know but dare not believe,
the drumbeat of rain against a heart
trying to revive a melody of metta.
Your relatives are not your kin
but your relationship with everything
internally and externally-
an ever changing season
asking for your love.
This poem was born from conversations I had with others post Thanksgiving. It was also influenced by the autumn season- listening, sensing, as well as my own causes and conditions. May it serve to awaken a truth you already know but dare not believe, and revive a melody of metta from within.
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